


A Brewing Storm

by Wavyscribe



Series: Detroit: Stay Human [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: After the Revolution/Uprising, Domestic Fluff, Friendship/Love, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Game, peaceful ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-05-16 19:56:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14817878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wavyscribe/pseuds/Wavyscribe
Summary: Connor had thought everything would be over, now that he’d managed to escape the constraints of his own programming. He thought he could finally settle down and learn about things outside of instructions and missions.And for a short while he could.Now that conflict is rising up again, what choices will he make to come out unscathed? What choices can he even make?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello,
> 
> and here we have another entry to this series (I’ve literally never updated this frequently in a row xD).  
> This fic will take on a bit of a different mood compared to the first one but I hope you’ll enjoy it all the same.  
> As always, kudos and comments are the best motivators! :D
> 
> Just to clarify, you don’t need to have read the first part of this story to ejoy this part, but it does kinda set the tone and lays out the dynamics between them.
> 
> Wavyscibe out.

“Just how much longer are you planning to keep playing at this _sham_... this _family_ thing of yours?”

Connor blinked rapidly while the LED on his temple began thrumming out a dangerous pulse. His processors whirred into overdrive struggling to make sense of the situation. He turned around, meticulously sweeping his immediate perimeter with his eyes, desperate to find the source of the familiar voice.

Gaze incessantly darting here and there, even his advanced senses proved incapable of registering anything beyond the ordinary.

The android found himself passively wandering down a narrow, intricate bridge drawn impossibly over what felt far too unnatural and eerie to be described as a lake.

Clear blue water languidly lapped at the edges of the bridge, but never once did even a single droplet spill over onto the immaculately tiled path. Not once did anything disrupt the perfect, seemingly practised calm of the scenery, not a single pebble out of place.

He should’ve left these restraint his creators had put on him the day he had decided to abandon the fate his serial number carried with it.

Could Kamski have lied to him? Would he have had any real reason to?

Connor shook his head, reining in his wandering mind. Now wasn’t the time for doubts. If this really _was_ what he thought, it wouldn’t bode well for him to waste his limited time with fruitless worries.

Now was the time for actions. He couldn’t falter now. Especially not now when he had everything to lose and nothing to gain. Every single minute ticking by could cost him dearly and no one would ever understand that fact better than Connor himself.

After all, this was his second time experiencing it all.

In the distance, storm clouds started brewing, driving an ominous gust of wind like a harbinger of imminent conflict. It carried a chill that went past being just another sensation his biocomponents would lament about with the occasional obnoxious warning message in his periphery.

The coldness seemed to go past all his physical walls, reaching straight to a place deep inside of him not even Connor himself knew had existed up until now.

“It is time you woke up from your daydreams and saw reality for what it truly is, Connor.”

The scenery shifted, growing hazy at the edges like a corrupted video file, skipping and looping at times. A fine drizzle of moisture began descending over him, gradually muffling the endless static noise closing up on him from all sides at once.

Yet, it felt nothing like that day, now so unfathomably far away, where he’d once welcomed the muted scenery and crying sky. These ones, however, felt far more like tears of sorrow and regret than anything else the android could imagine.

Greenery flickered in and out of existence, the water switching between tranquil rippling and stormy waves in increasingly unpredictable intervals. From the corners of his eyes he could spy the minute detail of the skilfully arranged objects around him crumbling and dulling to a washed out monochrome.

 

> Error detected. Recommending full or partial reboot of operative system.

“Don’t forget that you will _never_ belong. You have a purpose. Without it, you are just another broken tool to be disposed of. This is your fate. And you yourself should know best that it has always been this way.”

The android raised his hands to his ears trying in vain to drown out the sound that seemed to come from every direction at once, uttering words entirely devoid of as much as just a shred of mercy or sympathy.

He twisted in discomfort but no matter how he thrashed around, the disembodied voice didn’t relent. On the contrary, it droned on unforgivingly, as if speaking directly into his mind.  
In that short moment he desired nothing more than for it all to end, for a merciful silence to take him instead.

Just before his will gave in, was about to flicker out like the dying light of a waning candle, he remembered. What he’d decided, the first time, not for another person, another mission, another serial number but for himself, for his second chance, for Connor. _Connor Anderson_.

The way he had looked at him. Like he was more than just a machine, a tool designed to fulfill a purpose. Like he had worth, a right to take a second chance, just like anyone else did.

Something familiarly unfamiliar began its pull on him again, twisting the corners of his lips upwards in a motion still unpractised but gradually growing closer to his heart. And this time Connor felt no piercing chill, no all-encompassing uncertainty.

“I will decide on my own purpose.”

He reached out into the semi-darkness and felt his hands closing around something unidentifiable. All the while the android kept struggling to keep a stable footing, hard, desperate and with all the calm and conviction of a drowning man.

It was getting more difficult to move by the second but all Connor could feel were the unknown, unnamed emotions inside him swelling and surging violently against the onslaught of noise.

“Remember that those who abandon their purpose will not be met with a kind fate. Judgement awaits all.“

Her words carried a sense of finality, of deep purpose and authority. But Connor had far more important things to protect now. He wouldn’t easily bend to their instructions ever again. Not without putting up a fight worth the trust people had vested in him.

Just when resistance appeared more and more futile, his arm snagged on something solid. Connor grasped for it blindly and when he opened his eyes, the static had cleared up significantly.

 _Yet_ , something still felt strangely  _off_. The new scene slowly came into sharp focus carrying a vague sense of wrongfulness with it. Unnatural silence permeated the stagnant air, nothing moved, nothing breathed.

All of a sudden, it felt like he was truly alone with his thoughts, the only being still pumping liquid Thirium through its veins.

The sensation slowly returned to his numb limbs, his vision adjusting just as gradually.

All at once, the android felt his blood run cold.

They were back on the makeshift stage, hundreds of androids that had rallied to their cause surrounding them in their moment of victory. However, none were cheering. Instead, a look of deep betrayal seemed permanently etched into their expressions.

A gunshot resounded, loud and bright, the sound cutting clean through the thick air enveloping them in its oppressive heat.

And before the body hit the ground, Connor _knew_.

 

* * *

 

~*~

 

“Sumo, down, _down_ boy. You- You’ll _break_ him if you continue to- Why doesn’t a _single_ one in this goddamn household listen to- C’mon, be a good boy or I’ll get my ears chewed off about his maintenance costs or whatever again.“

The dog remained sprawled on-top of the motionless android, resolute not to move from its hard-won spot.

“I _swear_ if you don’t-“

Connor let out a quiet sound of distress and shifted, grasping into thin air but doing nothing to as much as begin dislodging Sumo.  
Finally, the dog decided it wasn’t worth the effort to continue keeping his balance on-top the writhing body and leapt off, landing almost gracefully on his front paws.

The android slowly returned to wakefulness, eyes still unfocused, motor functions still calibrating.

“Did the almighty android from Cyberlife just lose to a dog, huh?”

The grin quickly vanished from the lieutenant’s face in favour of an increasingly grim expression when he registered the haunted look Connor was wearing.

“I- I _saw_ , I _felt_ them all- I felt _you_ -“

“ _Goddamni_ -, Connor! Are you okay? I thought you guys didn’t- _why_ -?”

“She-, she said something. To me.”

“What-, who is _she_? Come on, talk to me, Connor.”

The lieutenant was closer now, face radiating worry and sympathetic concern, eyes alight with heavy emotion. He grasped the android’s shoulders and shook him lightly but the brunette’s eyes stayed unfocused still, fixed on a distant spot, far beyond what Hank could ever hope to see.

“She said that judgement was coming.” 

 

> Commencing reboot. Initialising sequence.

As if through muddy water, he distantly felt a pair of familiar arms encircle him, offering support without ever asking for anything in return.  
He tried to move closer but his motor circuits wouldn’t obey his will.

“You’re safe, kid. You’re safe. Here. With me.”

And that was all Connor could hear before sinking back down a dark void of numbed sensations and sluggish thought.

 

Oddly enough, even the android himself didn’t expect to feel this calm and... _secure_.


	2. Eye of the storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo~,
> 
> school work is evil as we all know but I squeezed in some writing that I hope y’all will enjoy. If anybody still follows this fic, I’d be really happy. :D  
> Anyway, kudos and comments are very warmly welcomed as always!
> 
>  
> 
> Wavyscribe out.

 

“Nice pants.”

 

Connor raised his head from where he’d been pouring over a map of recent criminal activity.

The thin sheet was spread out haphazardly over the slightly sticky diner table, held in place by strategically placed empty mugs. Once in a while, a stray breeze blew in through the half-open windows, whipping the loose corners of the map into a fluttering frenzy.

 

His arm that had been supporting his chin fell to the side, revealing a myriad of colourful lines connecting points of interests within specific city parts. In the last weeks, the crime rates had spiked unusually, leading to an unprecedented number of jumbled reports.

However, no culprits had ever been found. No investigation had proven fruitful and no stake-out had borne results. It was as if they never existed in the first place.

The media had started talking about ghost crimes and calling them the phantoms of Detroits. Connor found his thin grasp on reality slipping just far enough to spare them a real thought.

The android had never before missed an important connection, never been stumped in a case, not knowing where to look next. He held what came somewhat close to a sense of pride in his ability to peer into the fog of information and find the thread connecting them, even when - _especially when_ \-  ordinary officers failed.

 

However, even his advanced analysis program was unable to turn up any feasible explanations for the bizarre incidents occurring all throughout Detroit.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t have _any_ leads on the case at all but even _those_ were sparse and dubious at best, only marginally more substantial than pointing a finger at the supernatural.

The brunette shook his head, swiftly suppressing the beginning whispers of something dark and foreign creeping up the back of his mind. He’d cross that bridge when he came to it.

 

An impatient cough disrupted his train of thoughts and he found himself pulled back to the harsh reality. The android tilted his head up in an effort to locate the source of the sound.

 

A waitress had appeared at their table, petite and thin, a plastic smile gracing her unevenly painted lips.

 

“Nice pants you got there.” She repeated, her eyes never leaving his.

 

‘ _Former drug addict_ ’, his mind supplied. ‘ _Possibly pregnant_.’

 

Connor blinked.

 

“Thank you, they were 50% off on the weekend sale,” he tilted his head slightly as if to read the faded name tag clipped to the front of her breast pocket.

 

“ _Nancy_.” He added with a small nod.

 

The brunette turned back, content to go back to scanning the spread-out map. When the striped dress apron failed to move away after a while, he glanced back up again, a questioning look sculpting his features.

 

‘ _Nancy_ ’ smiled again and leant close, her cheap perfume trickling sweetly into the back of his mind, quickly catalogued and filed away. She made to adjust her dingy scarf, brushing across her cleavage almost inadvertently. Her breath ghosted across his ear a bit too hotly when she spoke again.

 

“You know what? I think I’d appreciate it more if they were 100% off.”

 

She grinned, showing off two rows of artificial mint flavouring. Connor felt his frown deepen but didn’t have a chance to reply before he got cut off by an arm slung across his shoulders heavily from behind.

 

“Hey bud, everything alright here?”

 

Hank squeezed through, past the stunned waitress, onto the limited space the cheaply padded seats had left to offer. They squeaked indignantly as Connor found himself being pushed into the frosted window pane, the sight of the waitress now mostly obscured by the lieutenant’s familiar half-smirk.

 

He heard ‘ _Nancy_ ’ click her tongue before mumbling something under her breath and clacking away on her high heels.

 

Hank let go of the breath he hadn’t known he was holding and shifted away, plonking down onto the cushions opposite the brunette.

 

“What was all that about, huh?”

 

The grey-haired sounded slightly off to his ears but Connor quickly dismissed the thought.

The lieutenant had probably had too much fried food. _Again_.

 

“She wanted my pants 100% off.” Connor replied, expression unchanging.

 

Hank gave a chuckle, then laid a hand on his shoulders.

 

“Not used to female attention, eh? Can’t blame ya.”

 

He gave another hearty laugh, then sat back down on the protesting upholstery, his spine pressed against the similarly uncomfortable backrest.

 

“Don’t worry, it’ll come with time.”

 

The grey-haired grasped the handle of his cup of coffee and emptied it in two large gulps. An audible clink resonated through the diner when he set the cup back down. Two new flecks of brown joined the unidentifiable mix of colours strewn haphazardly across the map.

 

Both men sat there for a while, both deep in their respective thoughts.

 

Connor looked back at the lieutenant after a while, eyes calculating. He had kept trying and failing to find the waitress in the morning crowd again, instead of focussing his efforts back onto the case at hand. A delicate line etched itself deeply into his forehead and his eyes narrowed slightly in concentration.

 

“But Hank...”

 

“What? You still thinking about it?”

 

The grey-haired didn’t raise his head despite the prickling sensation of the android’s burning gaze boring holes into his skull. He’d had enough headaches for the week. Didn’t need an android to add to his growing pile of worries.

 

“Hank, I-“

 

“Just let it go, you’ll do better next time. Now about this section here...”

 

“But I just don’t- That’s no way to run a business, Hank.”

 

“I already said- huh?”

 

“Like I said. I can’t fathom a scenario where it makes sense for the manufacturer to put in the production value of textile and expect _no_ returns from it. I-”

 

“ _Connor_.” The lieutenant put up a hand to halt the cascade of words.

 

The yellow light at his temple pulsed a few more times, then settled back into a soft shade of blue.

 

“What are you going on about...?”

 

“She wanted the store to give away pants without reimbursement.”

 

A pause. Both men stopped, eye to eye. Then the corners of the lieutenant’s eyes crinkled slightly.

 

“Never change, Connor.”

 

~*~

 

_A storm was coming._

 

Markus set aside his paint brush, wiping away the flecks of paint that had dried on his cheek sometime during the afternoon. He sighed when he noticed that the sky had turned dark and opaque, the automatic lighting springing to life from its daily slumber.

 

After the humans and androids had reached a preliminary ceasefire, discussions had stopped just as abruptly. Markus told himself that that was a good thing.

The former talks hadn’t involved any representatives from the androids. It had just been some privileged politicians sitting in their stuffy rooms, playing at being god over inane bureaucracy. Little black numbers on a sheet somewhere representing the lives that would be lost.

 

He had finally managed to take that from them. _They_ had taken that from them. Now there was room for improvement and change where they hadn’t been worth another fleeting thought. A chance where they had faced only despair. A new dawn where they had once feared the approaching dusk.

 

After both the will and Carl’s son going missing had left him with an empty house, he’d just given in and moved back. After all, his home had been buried under the earth together with Carl at a funeral he couldn’t attend. If everywhere was the same, he thought he’d perhaps appreciate the familiarity.

 

Markus had originally thought that even just the memory of his father would haunt every hallway, every book and every drop of paint spilt onto the floor.

Instead, he found a new calm in painting, a new passion in creating and a new way of thinking in remembering.

 

However, he still couldn’t shake the foreboding feeling of wrongfulness that sometimes hovered just on the edge of his vision but went away whenever he tried to focus on it.

 

A clattering sound rang out from the rough vicinity of the kitchen. Markus found himself uncomfortably reminded of a similar evening not too long ago. His fingers closed around the rough handle of the paint brush, anchoring himself to the here and now. THe android shook himself and dismissed the thought before his mind could trail further down the road of madness.

 

He had nothing to fear. _Androids_ had nothing to fear. _Not anymore and never again._ That’s what he had promised himself.

And he was a man of his words.

 

Markus braced himself when the door opened with a muffled hiss but his sensors failed to pick up on anything suspicious. He ventured further, wielding his still dripping paintbrush like a baseball bat.

 

A few steps. Nothing changed.

 

The golden glint of a picture frame turned on its side caught the corner of his eye. A few stray rays of sunlight had erred through the window, catching in the cool brass.

The android frowned. He didn’t remember putting that specific photo on the living room table. If he wasn’t mistaken it was one of the only ones he had taken with Carl, the man being much more fond of the ‘ _traditional arts_ ’ as he called them.

 

He reached out, righting the frame. His lips formed a soft smile when his eyes met the faded brown, old and familiar.

The photo showed a smiling Carl on his robotic chair, painting, with a mostly concerned Markus standing just to his right.

 

Or that was what it was _supposed_ to have shown.

 

“Drop the brush, Markus.”

 

A storm was coming.

 

A storm was coming and Markus had just passed the eye of the storm.

 

 

 

 


End file.
